


A Blank Canvas

by ManiLea



Category: Sylvanian Families (Toys)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManiLea/pseuds/ManiLea
Summary: Freya is the best artist at the Country Tree School. Ralph is eager to support his friend's talents, but somehow, as always, he causes trouble along the way.





	1. After-school play

Ralph Walnut Squirrel stepped back from his painting. It was recognisably a city skyline, but the blocks of grey and black were a bit wonky and some of the yellow window splotches had smudged into the grey. It would do, he thought.

He glanced around the classroom. Most of his classmates were hard at work, but to his right, Sabrina Striped Cat and Frances Red Panda were dabbing paint on each others arms whenever Mr Bear wasn't looking. Sabrina had nothing more than a red box on her canvas.

Ralph shuffled through the art stations to the back of the classroom. He opened up his school bag, pretending to get something from it, while he looked around to see what everyone else had made of the 'buildings and structure' theme.

One painting caught his eye. An intricate iron bridge arched over a foaming, flowing river in a green and yellow meadow. Not a corner of the canvas had been left blank. There was a cobbled path leading over the bridge, and frogs peeking out of the grass by the river. The river wasn't blue, like he thought rivers were supposed to be. It was purple, green and grey. It definitely looked like a river.

The Sylvanian standing in front of the painting was of course Freya Chocolate Rabbit. She was by far the best artist in the school. She was still adding flecks of white to the sky and the bridge.

Ralph sidled up to her. “That's amazing, Freya!”

“Thanks! I wanted to add someone on a bicycle riding up to the bridge, but I ran out of space.”

“Ralph Walnut Squirrel!” called Mr Bear. “Back to your station!”

Ralph scampered back to his painting and picked up a paintbrush. He didn't know what to do with it now that his painting was complete, so he dipped it in the yellow paint and flicked it at Sabrina. Paint sprayed across the back of her head. Sabrina squealed.

“Ralph!”

“They were messing around too!” Ralph protested. It was no use. Mr Bear made him spend the rest of the art lesson wiping paint off the floor and desks.

After the art lesson it was home time, but Ralph was in no hurry to get home. His father had been working on one of his projects and the drill had been going off rather a lot. Not much was fun when it was interrupted by drilling every few minutes, not even turning the Treehouse slide into a water ride with a bucket of soapy water.

“Hey, Freya, do you want to come to the park with me?”

Freya put a paw to her chin and had a think. “I don't have ballet today, or my piano lesson. Grandpa and grandma are coming tomorrow evening, not this evening. So, yes! I can go to the park with you.”

The park was in a spacious, leafy part of the town where the big houses stood. Ralph and Freya practised handstands and cartwheels on the grass. Then Ralph found a strange shiny green beetle and chased Freya with it. They ran all the way to the back of the park, but by then the beetle had escaped Ralph's paws. Freya stuck her tongue out at him and he fumbled about his trousers, hoping to find it somewhere.

“Bet you can't do this,” said Freya, standing on one tiptoe and leaning against a white wall for support. She lifted her other leg in a perfectly straight line, parallel to the floor, and let go of the wall.

Ralph didn't care for ballet poses. “Bet you can't do this,” he replied, and scrambled up a tree. He climbed as far as he could up one branch until it started to bend under his weight. He looked down and waved at Freya.

“Hey, it looks like you're standing in front of an ginormous art canvas,” said Ralph.

Freya looked at the big white wall behind her and chuckled. “I would never run out of space if I painted on this!”

“You should do it!” said Ralph excitedly. “You'd make the biggest and best painting in all of Sylvania. I can get you some spray paints from my dad's workshop.”

“That would be really cool,” admitted Freya. “Let's come here again sometime, and you bring the paint!”


	2. Painting the painting

Freya had so many after-school activites, classes and family events that a whole week passed before they were able to visit the park again. Until then, Ralph sneaked out one can of paint at a time from Cedric Walnut Squirrel's workshop and stored them in his school locker. When Freya was finally free, they divided the paint cans between their school bags and heaved them all the way to the park.

Freya stared at the wall for a long time. She didn't even touch the paint.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Ralph.

“I'm thinking. I have to picture it in my head first.”

Ralph wandered off around the park. He found an apple tree and used a big stick to knock the good-looking ones off the upper branches. He ate one and carried the rest back to Freya.  
Some black and brown shapes had been sprayed onto the wall, and Freya was standing and staring again. Ralph gave her an apple.

“What are you painting?”

Freya smiled. “You'll see! I need a ladder.”

Over the next few days, Freya made a few excuses and apologies to various Sylvanians, so that the coming weekend was completely clear. On the Saturday morning, they snuck a ladder out of Cedric's workshop. 

Freya got to work immediately, having had some time to think about her painting. She let Ralph help by giving the can of light blue paint so he could spray the top part of the canvas. He was more nimble on a ladder, after all. They had a picnic of cheese and tomato sandwiches for lunch, packed by Freya's mother, and carried on working straight after. Ralph's arm was hurting, but he saw how focussed Freya was and didn't want to let her down.

The next morning, they arrived at the park for another day of painting and Ralph realised what the scene was. It was a picnic bench, crammed with plates of food. Two Sylvanians were sitting on the far side of the bench, and their outlines looked like those of a squirrel and a cat. A white rabbit figure was bringing a huge flask to the table. There were trees and long yellow-green grass all around them, just like in the park.

Freya grinned at the surprise on his face. “What's better than a picture of my best friends?”

She spent the morning adding the details, like the dark stripes on Ralph's head, the cupcakes on the plates and the identical shell necklaces that Freya and Sabrina wore. Ralph filled in an outline of the shadow of the picnic bench. He was getting a better idea of how to paint just by helping Freya.

Freya sprayed specks of white onto the corners of the eyes and put down the can. She wiped her aching, sweaty paws on her dress. Her dress already had plenty of flecks of brown and white paint on it. She hoped they would come off in the wash.

“I think I'm done.”

Ralph was sitting in the grass. It has been a while since he had been able to contribute. “Looks done to me. It looks brilliant! We should bring our class here so they can see it.”

“We can do that another day.” Freya flopped down beside him. “I'm exhausted.”

School mornings were usually hurried for Ralph, but that Monday he almost bounced out of his bed. The sunlight coming into his room was blindingly bright and he felt refreshed. His mother Yardley came in to check that he was awake.

“You were running about the park all weekend, no wonder you slept so well,” she said.

Ralph got dressed and slid from the Treehouse into the Log Cabin. A breakfast spread was on the table. He tore off a piece of bread, slathered it in butter and crammed it into his mouth.

His mother came in with a newspaper and sat at the table. She unfolded the newspaper and gasped. “Ralph...”

Ralph uncomfortably swallowed his half-chewed bread. She sounded like she was about to tell him off. He couldn't think why.

Yardley showed him the front of the paper. There was a huge photograph of Freya's painting and the headline above it declared, “GRAFFITI ON BEECHWOOD HALL”.

“It's a good painting, isn't it?” said Ralph. “What's the fuss?”

Yardley narrowed her eyes. “Graffiti is a crime, Ralph. That wall belongs to the Tuxedo Cats. Whoever painted on it didn't have permission from them.” Indeed, the article seemed to include an interview with a very upset Mr Tuxedo Cat.

“Just because I'm in the picture, it doesn't mean I did it!” exclaimed Ralph. “I can't paint like that. You know I can't, mum.”

Ralph gulped down a glass of milk, grabbed his bag and set off to school.

Freya was sitting alone in the top canopy of the Country Tree School.

“There you are!” cried Ralph. “Did you see the newspaper this morning? Your painting is famous already!” He giggled. Then he saw that Freya's eyes were red and she was looking very unhappy.

“I didn't know that was the back of Beechwood Hall. I never would have done it if I'd known. I'm going to be in so much trouble.”

Ralph shrugged. “I get into trouble all the time.”

“I have to tell Mr Tuxedo Cat it was me. I'll go straight there after school. Will you come with me, Ralph?”

Ralph didn't particularly want to, but Freya looked so worried. He didn't want to be a bad friend. “Alright.”


	3. Young offenders

Beechwood Hall was the biggest house in Sylvania. A fountain stood in the middle of a perfectly trimmed lawn and lace blinds hung at every window. A shiny red car was sheltered in its carport, above which was a roof garden furnished with a table and chairs.

Freya nervously knocked on the door. They waited for a few minutes. Ralph was about to suggest leaving when the door swung open to reveal Mason Tuxedo Cat.

“Sorry, I was on the telephone. How may I help you?”

“We've come to talk to you about the painting on your house,” said Freya shyly.

“Oh! You'd better come inside, then.”

They followed Mason into his living room and sat side-by-side on the red sofa. Mason sat opposite them and looked expectant.

“It was a mistake!” blurted out Freya. “We didn't know it was your house. We were just having fun. Please don't hand us over to the police. We're so sorry.”

“Hand you over to the police?” Mason furrowed his brows “Ah. There's a thought. Do you know what the police do with young offenders?”

Freya's lip trembled and she shook her head.

“They would tell your parents, to begin with.” Ralph stopped swinging his legs and his eyes grew wide. He couldn't let that happen. “Then they would write all the details of the event in a big book which is kept for eternity by the town mayor. That way, no one would forget what you did.”

“Oh, that would be awful!” cried Freya.

Mason continued. “Lastly, they would make sure that you made amends. That means repairing the thing you did wrong. Now, I think the first two steps are unnecessary. All that's really needed is to make amends. Wouldn't you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ralph hastily.

“Very good. So, come with me.”

They went into the kitchen, where Mason filled a large bucket with soap and water. He gave them a sponge that was the size of one of Freya's ears and a long-handled broom. He took a ladder under his arm and led them around the back of the house. They put the things down in the grass.

“Clean up as much as you can now and come back tomorrow for the rest.” Before he left, Mason added more warmly, “It was very brave of you to confess. Thank you for that.”

Ralph dunked the sponge into the bucket, but Freya held out an arm before he could do anything.

“I just want to look at it before I can't anymore.”

Ralph put down the sponge and looked up at it with her. “We didn't even get to show it to anyone. Stupid Mr Tuxedo Cat.”

Freya looked at him reproachfully. “We shouldn't have done it. Not here, anyway.”

They started by removing the sky, the trees and the background. Ralph scrubbed at the paint with the sponge, then Freya wiped it away with the broom. Ralph climbed on the ladder to scrub at the scene in the foreground. He heard a sob from below. Tears were streaming down Freya's face like the coloured water on the wall.

“Are you okay?”

“I – yes. I just – worked – so – hard on it.” Freya wiped her tears on her sleeve.

Ralph's stomach knotted with guilt. It had been his idea for Freya to paint on the wall. If he hadn't suggested it, Freya would never have been in a position where she had to destroy her own work. It wasn't too bad for him – he got into trouble a lot and he didn't care much what grown-up Sylvanians thought of him. But Freya was the apple of everyone's eye. It was a big deal for her to do something naughty, even if it wasn't on purpose.


	4. Cedric's balloon

Cedric Walnut Squirrel burst into the Log Cabin. “It's ready! My invention is complete!” He bounced up and down like a child and spun Yardley around, almost knocking over a chair. Ralph and his sister Saffron laughed. “Come and see it!”

Parked outside was what looked like a large tricycle with a bulbous rugby-ball-shaped balloon above it. The whole thing was tiptoeing against the ground, as if it wanted to float away, but Cedric had tethered it to the Treehouse on two sides.

“I love the balloon!” exclaimed Saffron. 

Ralph rolled his eyes. It was orange and flowery, so she was sure to like it. He guessed his father had chosen the material for that reason.

Cedric beamed. “I was going to spray the metal parts green, but somehow I'd completely run out of the green. The red went quite well after all.”

The hot air balloon had a two-person bench and a baby seat at the front, so there was not enough room for them all to try it at once. Cedric offered to take Yardley up first, then Ralph and Saffron on the second round.

Ralph watched the balloon take off and soar high into the air. He waved at his mother until she was a distant yellow-brown speck. While he waited he decided to go into his father's workshop to see what parts had been left over. He had brought the cans of paint and the ladder back, of course, but the paint cans were much lighter than they had been.

There were plenty of scraps of wood and metal. Some of the metal had been hammered into odd shapes and there were cracks in some of the wooden boards, making them unusable, but there was one nice big piece of wood which had been neatly cut and sanded down. It was a little bigger than the canvases they used at school.

He and Freya hadn't spoken much since they had finished cleaning up at Beechwood Hall. They seemed to still be friends, but Ralph didn't know what he could talk about that wasn't somehow related to the painting in the park, and Freya had been quiet in general. He didn't want their friendship to be ruined by one unfortunate escapade. Maybe he could cheer Freya up with another canvas.

Ralph took the wooden board outside in time to see his parents landing the balloon. “Can I have this, dad?”

“Sure,” said Cedric in surprise.

Freya took the board with a smile and a thanks, but placed it at the side of her desk and didn't look at it again. Ralph shuffled back to his desk and rested his head on his arms. There seemed to be nothing he could do that would cheer Freya up and make her want to paint again.

Their art lessons had moved on to papier mâché. Mr Bear placed a bowl of paste on every second desk, and the children occupied themselves with tearing the newspaper into strips. There were props, like balloons and old vases, which were to be used as moulds. Ralph decided to papier mâché his pencil.

“That's going to be difficult to remove once it's set,” advised Mr Bear.

Ralph hadn't thought of that, but it was an old pencil, so he wasn't going to miss it. He made two circular shapes using the bottom of some cups, so he could form a bicycle.

The next day, the papier mâché was dry, so they continued with their art. They glued the parts of their designs together and painted them. Ralph gave his bicycle a purple frame and black wheels. He made some handlebars and pedals out of paper clips.

“What is that?” asked Maxwell Hedgehog.

Ralph scowled. “It's a bike! It's better than a boring volcano.”

Maxwell's volcano took up the whole table and had fiery orange swirls of twisted cotton wool coming out of it for the lava. It was actually rather good.

“Gather around the front, everyone,” called Mr Bear. “You have to see Freya's wonderful work.”

They all crowded around Freya's desk. She had done a painting as usual, but it was a three-dimensional painting. A tree-trunk had been moulded on one side, and there was a squirrel hanging from its branch by its tail. On the ground, there was a white rabbit doing a pirouette and a brown striped cat doing a handstand. The faces of all three characters were 3D and Freya had stuck on little pieces of coloured felt for their noses and ears.

“It's not quite finished,” said Freya modestly. She turned the board a little so she could add some detail to the tree trunk.

“You used the board I gave you!” cried Ralph, suddenly noticing it. “You did like it! And you made a scene in the park again, with me, you and Sabrina. But this one's better than the old one.”

Freya gave him a hug. “Thanks for always being so supportive of me.”

When Freya was finished, Mr Bear hung the painting at the school entrance, so that everyone who passed into the building would see it. It was greatly admired by children in other classes as well as school visitors. Whenever anyone asked Freya about it, she made sure to tell them that her friend Ralph had helped.


End file.
